Skys Brand

Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Blood & Rain

I have a life beyond here that demands my attention among other things. This isnt a first come first serve game either, I want to pick the right players for the pack. Thats just how I’m doing it.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Blood & Rain

Small update: Application time has been extended.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Blood & Rain

Gif created by Sky's Brand (Me)

The pack, Luna's Pride, was not an ordinary pack of Garou—they were mythic warriors, one of the chosen few who truly were all that it was to be Gaia's chosen. They were a shield against corruption, protectors of the physical world and the Umbra, their mere presence holding the balance in check. Their names had meaning, their deeds were the material of which the Galliards sang their tales beneath the full moon, wars fought in flesh and soul, victories that would have secured their place among the greatest of their kind.

Now there is silence.

No howls resound in their land. No messengers arrive with their tidings. No vestige of Luna's Pride is left—save the whispers of spirits that will not tell what occurred, and a land that is already starting to descend into chaos. The territory that was once full of life has started to rot from the inside out, and the Gauntlet shudders as something moves in the dark.

And then the call comes. The desperate voice, raw and shaking, of one who presents herself as the sole surviving member of the defeated pack. She does not beg for help—she warns. Something has broken through the Gauntlet. Something powerful enough to wipe out an entire legendary pack.
Now it falls to you and your packmates to fill the void they left behind. To reclaim the land, rebalance the scales, and dig up the truth that has lain buried beneath blood and shadow. The spirits will not assist you willingly, the land itself recoils, and every step you take forward will reveal another secret that was better left unsaid.

Yet as the mystery unravels, you may start to realize something horrific: you were always meant to be here. This quest was never yours to choose—it was charted for you, before you ever stepped foot in Luna's Pride's accursed borders. And now, as you stand on the brink of revelation, you must ask yourself: who's truly in charge? And when the final choice comes, it may seem the hardest decision you've ever made:

What, or who, will you sacrifice to stop the darkness?
Or will you stand firm, knowing it may destroy you?

Welcome to -

Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Blood & Rain

Seeking Players Who -
✘ Enjoy deep roleplay, character driven roleplay, collaborative storytelling.
✘ Moral dilemmas and tough choices.
✘ Action, horror, mystery, and exploration in equal measure.
✘ Exploring the spiritual and supernatural side of Werewolf: The Apocalypse.
✘ Skill level – Literate to Advanced literate (no post length, but good quality writing + storytelling).

Notes: Based on the TTRPG – Werewolf: The Apocalypse, using the 5th edition mechanics with the World Of Darkness Solo Game rules for a Storyteller-less experience. Familiarity with the game is highly encouraged. Not accepting premade characters, characters will be made alongside “the pack”. Discord can/may be used to help organize lore, character sheets, etc (but not required). The game will be set in the Pacific North West, Washington State, near Coyote Falls, and Snoqualmie City. Travel between a small town and a city will occur. Any lore questions feel free to post below or in a private message.

[Applications Closed By 3.30.2025 - Players leave your experience with W5 and a character concept as an application. Any questions send to me directly or here. Not a first come first serve game.]

Concept (definition)

"A general and brief description of who the character is. Examples; private investigator trying to unravel their mystery, a college student attempting to blend into their previous life still or, an occult professor who dug too deep."

Spots -

1. [@skysbrand]
2.
3.
4.

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Callum Ironwood stepped from the treeline like a ghost from an old legend, his presence heavy with the weight of unspoken tales. The firelight caught the silver in his dark grey hair and beard, turning him into something timeless—a warrior etched by age but unbroken by it. His jacket, worn and scarred, spoke of countless battles fought and won, each mark a story he carried in silence.

He had been here before, many times over the years. Training young Garou wasn’t a job; it was a duty, a promise made to those who had mentored him long ago. Every cub he guided through their first uncertain steps into this life reminded him of the ones who hadn’t made it, their faces etched into his memory like shadows on a wall. But he couldn’t think about that now. Not here, not tonight.

In moments, the man was gone, replaced by a massive Tundra Wolf. His golden eyes gleamed like firelight in the dark, burning with a quiet, commanding intensity. He moved forward, silent and deliberate, each step heavy with purpose, the scars on his coat like echoes of old storms.

He see's Snapjaw came through the edge of the clearing, his figure outlined by the fire’s glow, and approaches. “Snapjaw,” he called, circling Snapjaw. Callum didn’t growl or snarl; his presence alone was enough to fill the space with tension, a quiet pressure that demanded acknowledgment. When he stopped, his golden eyes met Snapjaw’s, sharp as a blade cutting through fog. "Have you completed your hunt for tonight's meal?"

The words weren’t cruel, but they carried weight. Callum didn’t waste breath on empty platitudes. He believed in these cubs—every single one of them—but belief didn’t soften the edges of the world they were about to face. He knew what the Rite of Passage would demand of them. He knew it could break them. "You weren't just star gazing, were you?"

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

The cooking fires crackly softly in the evening air, its light flickering against those familiar faces that stood close by. Aly’s obnoxiously proud grin. Wild Rose’s aged but sharp gaze. Adesina’s nervous glances. The faces of a few I wouldn’t likely forget. That sketchbook of Aly’s gleamed in the glow, her attitude still countering my own. That weight in my chest still heavy. My patience wore thin enough, and I couldn’t stop myself from biting back.
“Suneaters?” I reeled, my works cutting that moment of silence like a shard of ice. “Why would you think naming ourselves something that might offend an already offended Great Spirit?” The last of my cut potatoes were tossed roughly into the pot. Hot water splashing, scalding my rough hands. The feeling is lost to temper and maybe even fear. Considering how one of Helio’s gang members could have been the one cooking the stews- I wasn’t going to take my chances. “The only thing you’ll be best at is running aw-” I couldn’t finish my thought, as a clawed hand batted hard against the back of my head. Blood ran down the side of my head as claws took a small sliver out of my ear.
Then her voice came. Commanding, steady, and sharp as her claws. Wild Rose.


“Enough.” The Mentor commands, tone cutting through the tension like the crack of a whip in the dark. In the light her salt-and-pepper hair glints in the firelight as she places herself between Jonathan and Aly, a hand on each of their shoulders. A dark shadow cast behind her, furthering her imposing presence and dominance. She was their teacher. And they best well remember that. “You know better to speak to your future pack mate that way. Not now, not ever.” She scolds Jonathan. Then turns to Aly. “Mind your words, Aly. Big talk can earn big enemy’s. Even if it is just a joke.” In a softer tone. It was obvious from time spent with the cubs, that for Aly words don’t always work. The Rite Of Passage would have to teach her those hard lessons.
“Not all cubs make it through their Rite of Passage. Some of you might not come back from this. You’ve trained, yes, but the wild doesn’t care about training. The spirits won’t take pity on you. And if you can’t stand as one, if you can’t find strength in each other, you’ll fall alone. Remember that.” Wild Rose presses, giving each of the rowdy cubs a hard look. Remember this. She pulls her hand away after giving each a gentle squeeze.
Wild Rose turns to Adesina, her tone shifting. “Adesina. Please watch over your brother and sister while I find SnapJaw. The night will be starting soon.”

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

For three months, the Sept of the Light Dancers had been their home. Nestled deep in Denali National Park, beneath the shadow of Mount Foraker, it was a place of harsh lessons and staggering beauty. The glacial lake at its heart shimmered with the whispers of spirits, and every step carried the weight of purpose.

Jonathan Skyes, Aly Evergreen, Adesina Hendi, and Dylan Archer arrived as individuals, strangers brought together by fate. Days of grueling training with mentors like Wild Rose and the Elders of the sept shaped them, teaching them the meaning of Garou life—strength, unity, and the balance between wolf and human. Nights spent camping under the stars forged their bond. Around the fire, they shared laughter, arguments, and quiet reflections, growing closer with every shared moment.

Now, the Rite of Passage awaited—a trial to strip away their doubts and transform them into a true pack. Beneath the vast Alaskan sky, their journey would truly begin. Together, they would face whatever awaited, their fates bound in the crucible of the wild.

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Wild Rose turns her head from Jonathan and Aly to their third companion, still kneeling, her gaze sharp as ever, though it softened slightly when it landed on Adesina. “Adesina,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I see you’ve found your way here. Good. Your brother and sister need another set of hands.”

She gestured toward the stew and the firewood. “Jonathan’s got his focus, but he can’t carry it all alone. And Aly’s got energy to burn, but she needs someone steady to help her channel it. You’re here now—make yourself useful.”

Rose let her eyes linger on the three for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without turning, she asked, “Where’s your wolf brother? I’ve not seen him recently.” Her tone was casual, but there was weight behind the question, a subtle thread of concern woven into her words.

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Character Master List -

The Pack -

@Ol Judgeent - Jonathan "Dark Skies" Skyes

@TrippyNightmare - Aly "Grey Talon" Evergreen

@hanzo - Adesina "Singa" Hendi

@Vertigo - Dylan "SnapJaw" Archer

Sept Of The Light Dancers (NPCs)

Pack Mentor (1) - Wild Rose (Galliard, Children Of Gaia)

Pack Mentor (2) - Callum IronWood (Ahroun, Hart Warden)

Sept Leader - Nadia Brightfang (Philodox, Silver Fang)

Caern Warden - Gregor Stonehowl (Ahroun, Children of Gaia)

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Aly’s voice broke that quiet atmosphere I had going like a stray bullet through a wall of glass. Shattered. Her dragged out whine made to look like a joke or some attempt at a casual conversation starter. This was no joke though. None of it was. I don’t understand how anyone could approach this kind of situation with that attitude.

The cooking fire crackled, water simmering for the stew. I gritted my teeth while tossing my ready potatoes into it. That energy of a reckless teenage was like rubbing Styrofoam pieces together. Unnerving. I wondered if that girl was conscious enough of her actions to realize what she was actually doing. My focus stays on peeling the potatoes, trying to keep my patience in check.

“We’re not passing tonight,” I stated, voice steady but low as usual. “If you’d been paying attention to Wild Rose- really paying any attention- you’d remember that,” Continuing, I picked my words. Or tried to. Maybe my nerves were getting the better of me. “A Rite Of Passage isn’t some pop quiz you one and done, Aly. You have to prove you’re worthy of keeping. Physically, mentually- spiritually even. You can’t just be reflexes and muscles.” Maybe it wasn’t the same for everyone else. But if prospecting was something anything I could get an idea from- I could only imagine how horrible something like this for werewolves fighting a war of attrition against some cosmic force that had many faces and hands. My palm goes to my forehead. The thought alone was a weight heavier than any stone.

The silence that followed wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. I focused on the stew again, the heat from the fire licking at my skin, the scent of the spices grounding me. In moments like this, the world narrowed to what was in front of me. Stirring, simmering, waiting.



The crunch of Wild Rose’s boots on the gravel wasn’t loud, but it carried. Each step was deliberate, purposeful, like the ticking of a clock counting down to something inevitable. She moved with the kind of confidence that didn’t need to announce itself, the kind that came from years of battles fought and wisdom earned. Her salt-and-pepper hair caught the flickering light of the fire, strands of silver gleaming like threads of a story half-told. She wasn’t imposing in stature, but there was weight to her presence, the unspoken promise that she could hold the world together if it started to crack.

“Jonathan. Aly,” she called, her voice cutting clean through the camp’s quiet murmur. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t have to be. Her words hung in the air, undeniable, like a gust of wind that shifted everything around it. “How’s the stew? If you’ve burnt it, you’ll be hunting and gathering until dawn to fix it.”

Wild Rose tilted her head toward the mess of firewood Aly had placed beside the fire. “Stack it properly,” she said, her tone like a blade drawn across stone—firm but not cruel. “If those logs roll into the fire, we’ll have more problems than burnt stew.”

Looking around, the mentor changed her tone while kneeling beside the two cubs. “How are you both feeling?” she asked, her tone shifting slightly. Still firm, but softer now. “Big night coming up. First step into the world as full Garou. It’s no small thing.”

Shadows Over Alaska - Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Among men, I am called Jonathan Skyes. Among The People, they call me Dark Skyes. This is my story.

Like many before me, and no doubt for many after, it begins with my First Change. The breaking point. The moment you stop being what you were and become something... other.

It was supposed to be a camping trip- just me and a few other guys from the Club. A rare chance to unwind from the rough life we lived. I was invited by someone I trusted- or was supposed to trust anyway. But that fucker, Horace, lied. About the trip. About what he really wanted. I never believed in fate. After that night though, I believed.

I don’t remember getting drugged- gagged, bound, and crucified. Those ropes were hard to forget, how they bit into my skin. Cold steel that sparkled by the light of the campfire. Blacked out faces except for his-Horace. With that shit eating grin. Looking at my damn hide like it was a fucking trophy he already claimed. Ready to carve me up.

That was the moment. The breaking point.

To be honest, thats when I blacked out. Taken by the wolf in me. I came to a freed man. Covered in blood that wasn’t my own and dazed to all hell. I didn’t bother looking to see if everyone was done it. Ran for the hills right after.

White Shadow- my mentor, found me later. He was like me. Brought me here to the Sept to learn the truth. If not for him, who knows what I’d be doing now.

--

That night, I remember being by one of the cooking fires, their warmth seeming through my T and jeans. A group of other kinfolk and myself all prepping for the different meals to be served at the moots great feast. Soft amber light danced in front of me while my gaze was focused on the potatoes that needed to be peeled. The moot was coming together well I think. Folks making the place look like natures paradise, other garou young and old working together to make sure they’ve got their pieces of the ceremonies down to a T, and somebody’s memaw with the other aunties cooking up a storm by the cooking fires. Being drilled about the apocalypse and coming of the Wyrm, it was shocking to see how hard Garou worked for their parties. Its...nice.

I focus on the potatoes I was working on. The hot starch scalding my calloused hands. It was easier then wondering on what was supposed to come later on. The Rite Of Passage. This big test to see if you actually learned anything during your ‘educating’ period. Not being able to imagine what they had in mind was daunting. It wasn’t like prospecting at all- proving yourself to a bunch of other lowlifes who thought they were tough shit. No, here you actually had something to prove. Could you fight to survive? Could you fight to defend what was important? I proved I could survive among lowly men. But this werewolf shit? Some piece of me doubted.

It wasn’t just me though. Other’s were doing their Rite’s too. Fellas I’d be making a pack with supposedly. I had...mixed feelings about em. Good and bad. I wondered where they were tonight.